


In the Eyes of Strangers

by Slaaneshissexxxy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Intrigue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaaneshissexxxy/pseuds/Slaaneshissexxxy
Summary: My rewrite of season 6. Will feature characters from the book. REVIEWS WOULD BE APPRECIATED.





	1. Prologue

The moon was high when the three men in black made their way die the interrogation chamber. Inside was a circular table lit by four candles and surrounded by five chairs. Alliser Thorne was already sitting while beside him stood the Lord Commander's servant, the boy Olly. Othell Yarwyck sat first while rubbing his hands together from the draught though he was wearing two layers of gloves. Endrew Tarth sat next while scratching his bald spotty head. Bowen Marsh looked out the door in case anyone saw them before shutting it and taking his seat.

"We need to discuss our situation. What to do with the wildlings outside our gates.", Thorne said. "Long as they are camped outside, they remain a threat to the realm."

"They seem to have been neutered. They're wandering about the Gift like lost pups in need of a home.", said Yarwyck. "I say let them stay there till they rot".

"Maybe we could send men out among them. To keep them on a short leash.", piped Marsh.

Fool, thought Tarth before speaking his mind. "Always with the half-baked ideas. It's only a matter of time before some other goat fucker starts agitating about storming the Wall. I say we drive them back to the frozen waste where they belong."

Olly served each man a cup of water but only Tarth drank. He gets thirsty during his tirades. Thorne again spoke up. "The long winter is upon us. The snow is falling more and the sun sets earlier than before. I have credible evidence that the Lord Commander plans to let the wildlings spend the winter in Mole's Town."

Credible evidence? Jon Snow's boy servant, you mean., thought Tarth.

"Is the boy mad?", said Marsh. "Letting wildlings past our gates?"

Yarwyck seethed. "Our brothers died defending this castle and the bastard is just going to throw away their sacrifice."

"Shameful. Shameful.", was all Tarth could muster.

"Brothers", Thorne spoke. "What if I told you we have the means to stop Jon Snow?"

Silence was the initial answer. Thorne added. "What if I said there are those in the rank and file that share our thoughts? That they are willing to go to great lengths to keep the realm safe. I am merely First Ranger and without the support of the other officers." He trailed off but the men knew what he was implying.

Marsh shifted forward in his seat. "Snow... has betrayed the Watch."

Tarth spoke. "Look what's become of us". He said with a chuckle at the absurdity of what is being plotted in the room.

Yarwyck finally said what was on everyone's lips. "Snow must die."

Thorne spoke again. "Brothers, I know what has been proposed is most extreme so we must do this in the way of the Watch. We vote on it. Raise your hand if you believe the Lord Commander must die."

Only Tarth refused.

"What are you all thinking?", he asked. "Raising our hands to the Lord Commander?"

"I thought you of all people...", said Thorne before Tarth cut him off.

"I joined the Watch to defend the realm but I didn't take a vow just so I can harm my brothers. No matter what he has done, nothing warrants the death of a Lord Commander! When were you planning to do it?"

Stone silence.

Tonight. Gods be damned. "I see. I'm an old done in man, but I'll not be party to treason. You're all coming with me to face justice."

The blade sneaked in from behind and just under his chin. Blood spurted forth from Tarth's throat. Yarwyck had to turn his head from the sight. Marsh buried his face in his hands. Thorne stood while wiping a little blood from his cheek. "Aye. Tonight we end the madness." One by one they left the chamber. Olly, while wiping the dagger, shut the door as he exited last.


	2. The Broken Man

It was a busy day in the outskirts of Lychester's Town. Women were busy cooking stews of vegetable and goat in large pots, children hauled pails of water and men were hard at work working pulleys, hammering nails and hauling lumber.

A septon walked amongst the crowd. A grizzled old man of nine and fifty yet retaining his vigor and humor. He led this group of refugees from the war into Lychester's Town for a new start. The old lord who owned the town had gone senile but his maester was more welcoming but only allowed this poor group of peasants outside the town limits because the townspeople were already having problems feeding themselves and didn't want to risk conflict with the influx of immigrants. Lord Lychester lacked money to pay soldiers to guard his entire town so the refugees will have to fend for themselves.

Ray, that was the septon's name, accepted the terms and set out getting his people to making tents and makeshift huts. All the while he preached about the Seven Gods and the Seven Hells and the Seven Heavens. Sandor Clegane thought him dull at first until he caught another one of his sermons about six months after he had joined the refugees.

"Look at our land. Yes, ours. Not some lord's or king's. See how beautiful it is? How at peace it is? No one would think we have been at war. The great houses are supposed to protect us and in turn we provide them food and shelter. We were enslaved instead. Bugger that then. Bugger them all. They gave us nothing but war and starvation. If they won't rule us wise, we'll find someplace else where there are no lords. Let them harvest their own crop if they wish. Maybe it will do them some good to do some hard work for once. Strength is all they value. What about compassion? What about humanity? We'd all be better off if everybody didn't draw swords just because someone looked at you the wrong way. Some of you come from the Riverlands while others from out West or even up North. You were either some bastard who lived in a hamlet unlucky enough to be in an invading army's way. You might be some lad who joined the army because you'd make a name for yourself and get some loot in the bargain and instead all you saw was blood and guts and you just wanted to go home. Some of you might have grudges because you were on opposite sides and wanna get even. I tell you that hate is useless. It won't bring your loved ones back. It won't rebuild your homes or give you a good night's sleep. We're all the same here now. The burdens of our past we all carry would crush us. Best to just let it go. Winter is coming and we need only have each other to keep warm."

Pretty words, thought Sandor before walking off to chop some more wood for the new sept's roof. Ray chuckled as he approached him. "In all my days, I've never seen a man swing an ax like that", he said.

Sandor grunted as he struggled with the ax embedded on the lumber he's hacking. "It matters how I look? I thought chopping wood was a simple job?"

"You're facing sideways and you ain't fighting nothing but a stump. It takes years to unlearn what you learned doing since you were a babe."

"My leg still hurts." Sandor's been favoring his right leg ever since he took that tumble down that cliff a year and a half ago.

"I remember. You never told me. How many men did it take to cut you down?"

Sandor paused when he heard the question. "Just one", he said before taking another swing.

"Heh", Ray said then he took his pinky and stuck it up his nose and flicked a booger out. "He must have been some kind of monster.", he said again while wiping his hand on his trousers.

Faces flashed in Sandor's memory. A red haired noble lady who he allowed to be beaten by her king. A sullen dark haired girl dressed as a boy who he teased with the death of her father. A giant blonde who gave him the fight of his life and ruined his body like no one had since he was a child. He couldn't tell who the septon was talking about.

"He was a woman." _It could have been worse_ , Sandor thought. _It could have been Meryn Trant._

Again the old septon laughed. "Anyway, it's time for some lunch. Hurry back before the soup pots are empty."

"This stump is giving me some bother. I'll be a little longer." The old septon shrugged his shoulders and walked back.

It had been half an hour after high noon when Sandor finally returned to camp. He got himself some of that goat stew. When there was only a little left, he polished that off with some hard rye bread. He sat eating his meal in a far corner of camp.

Again Ray approached him. "I think some of the men are a bit afraid of you.", said the septon while handing him a cup of water.

"I'm used to it", Sandor replied while taking the water and gulping it down.

In that second he remembered countless things in the hazy year he had been in the company of these refugees. Of how the old septon found his carcass by the side of that forgotten valley. Of how he got loaded into a wagon full of corpses ready for burial only for him to cough and startle Ray. He remembered spending months recovering while Ray tended to his wounds and mended his broken leg. He remembered how he had smelled of blood and vomit and piss and shit after spending days left for dead by the Stark girl. He remembered saying his name when asked who he was. _That ought to fetch you and your flock a hefty price_ , he thought but no one came to collect a bounty. He remembered being told to either start helping out with the work or take his leave as soon as he could stand. So Sandor Clegane worked a year without saying a word to anyone. Everyone feared him for his burned face and imposing size and so no one bothered him.

Ray spoke again. "Been with us a year and you haven't made a single friend. Hardly anyone knows your name and you never come to worship."

Sandor interrupted him. "Speak your mind, septon."

Ray continued. "You've got demons in you. I'm just saying you could do a lot by telling us what ails you."

Sandor changed the subject. "I'm thinking of leaving once the sept's done."

Ray sighed then carefully say on a rock next to Sandor. "Aye. I expected you would. You're the strongest man I've seen. When I found you, I thought you'd been dead for days. I reckoned you were gonna die by the time I loaded you onto the wagon but you didn't. I reckoned you were gonna die a dozen more times over the next few days but you didn't. What kept you going?"

Sandor paused from eating, took a bite of bread then said "Hate".

Ray took a straight look at the man and said "No. There's a reason you're still here".

"Yes there's a reason. I'm a big fucker and I'm tough to kill."

He looked up at the sky and said "The Gods aren't done with you yet." Then he stood up.

"I heard that before.", Sandor scoffed. "Man was talking about a different God though."

Ray turned and said "Well maybe he was right. I don't know much about the gods."

"Then you're in the wrong line of work."

"Well there are plenty of pious sons of bitches who think they know the word of God or Gods. I don't. I don't even know their real names. Maybe it is the Seven. Maybe it's the old gods. Or maybe it's the Lord of Light. Or maybe they're all the same fucking thing. I don't know. What matters, I believe, is that there's something greater than us. And whatever it is, it's got plans for Sandor Clegane." He gave him a knowing look.

Sandor only said "You didn't know me back in my time. You don't know the things I've done."

Ray only says. "The Clegane name rings around these parts. I've heard stories."

With that Sandor's tone deepened. "If the gods are real, why haven't they punished me?"

"They have.", Ray said then walked off. Sandor Clegane was left to mull over the old septon's words.

* * *

 

"We all have burdens. They weigh us down until we feel like no longer living. Is there anyone who wishes speak truth of themselves that their sins may be forgiven?"

An unfamiliar hand raised. Sandor sat up and walked in the middle of that circle of people.

"I am Sandor Clegane. I was bannerman to House Lannister and Kingsguard to King Joffrey." He coughed a little and continued. "I did things. Said things I shouldn't have. Now I'm angry all the time."

When it was time for sleep, Ray told Sandor "You had a late start but you did well."

In his tent Sandor Clegane slept and it wasn't until the next morning did he realize that that night was the first in years when he didn't dream of fire.


	3. Cersei

The Queen Mother walked the halls. She sometimes took strolls along shore of the bay. She looked out from her balcony beyond the royal apartment's walls into the great swarming capital.

_They still speak of me. Of how they humiliated me. I can feel their eyes on me even now. Just you wait. A Lannister always pays her debts._

She lounges in the garden. She does needle work. Snacks a little bit on blue berries sweetened with honeyed milk cream before her luncheon. She eats a luncheon of grilled trout stuffed with tomatoes served with shrimp rolled up in flour and deep fried. And always the wine. Never forget the wine.

The servants go about their duties as always but now they are more afraid. None dare laugh at Cersei Lannister. Her Kingsguard Ser Gregor shadows her everywhere.

For months this same routine was hers. Unchanging. Monotonous. Dull. One can look at a time piece and know exactly where she is that day. The gardens in the morning. In the afternoons the bay. Supper in her room. If she's lucky her son King Tommen will join her. They chat a lot but speak of nothing of importance.

"The weather has gotten cooler."

"Autumn is waning. It will be winter soon."

"Winter in the capital. I can't imagine."

"Perhaps I'll help you build a snowman."

"Afraid I'm too old for that."

"Nonsense. It will be most fun. It will be better with your sister and uncle."

"Myrcella will be a wife when she returns."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence before the King had to leave again. Running a city is hard work, let alone seven kingdoms.

Sometimes she doesn't like the company. One night she had to endure the company of her uncle and her son's great good mother.

"Surely there must be a bargain we can strike."

"I have already informed my son of his children's incarceration. He will lead our armies already garrisoned at Highgarden and take Margaery and Loras from the Sparrow's clutches."

"The king will not allow blood."

"Tell him he can join us or perish like his brother did, Ser Kevan. Time to take off the gloves off."

"Perhaps it doesn't need to end like this."

"The queen mother has no say in matters of state."

"Maybe I should, uncle. You hate these fanatics as much as the rest of us. Don't you want Lancel back, or have you given him up for good?"

"Of course I want him back. His mother misses him greatly."

"Then listen well. Since you cannot take action against the Sparrows then mayhaps you can just make sure the Tyrell army wins."

"I will turn tail and turn my swords against my king!"

"It's not betrayal. When Lord Tyrell arrives you will tell the men to stand down. Are you forbidden from standing down?"

"No."

"Then no betrayal was committed. You just had a bit of trouble deploying the men."

"If this doesn't go as planned, There will be civil war. Blood on the streets. People will die"

"People die no matter what we do. Better them than us!"

The week that followed was tense but calm. "Lord Tyrell is returning at the head of an army", the servants uttered under their breath. The pompous old man was never known for guile. "Six thousand Reachmen are marching straight for the capital", Qyburn said. His little birds serve well. "He is so confident of victory that he's left Lord Tarly in charge of the Reach."

With Stannis Baratheon dead, Randyll Tarly is the most capable soldier in Westeros. He gave Robert his only military defeat. Cersei wonders if this is a mistake Lord Tyrell will regret. Qyburn said there are only three thousand Sparrows. If it comes down to street fighting, they can turn the buildings into makeshift forts and hold back twice their number. But the reward just seems to much more enticing than the risk.

_The plan is set. Once the capital is cleansed it will be safe just in time for Myrcella and Jaime to come back. This family will be whole again. Together we can then deal with these Tyrells._ _"_

Her train of thought was interrupted when her door keeper opened the door to her chamber. She turned to see Ser Gregor, all imposing as always. He gleamed with his white and gold armor.

Except for the red stain on his gauntlet. He and Qyburn's little birds had accomplished their task. She smiled a little smile and approached the giant knight.

"I want to stroll through the garden before dinner." She strode out of her chamber with Ser Gregor trailing behind. For some reason, she thought about some of the words from The Rains of Castamere.

_My claws are as sharp yours my lord._


	4. Theon

The wind bit through their clothing down into the bone. Their breath turned into smoke as Sansa and Theon huddled together inside that hollowed tree.

 _We must find shelter. We'll not last the night if we stay this way,_ thought Theon.

A fresh layer of powder cushioned their fall when they jumped off Winterfell's ramparts. It was about when they were half a mile did they start to hear the bloodhounds.

 _North. We need to go north. Jon Snow is at the Wall. He'll keep her safe._ This is all Theon thought to himself when he and Sansa ran through endless woods from sunset till the dead of night.

They're not dressed for the weather. She is in a frock of cotton and a cloak while he is in a shirt and trousers made of the same material as sacks. His shoes were actual sacks.

They made sure to stay close to the back woods and away from any hamlets on the side of the Kingsroad, but with them going to the Wall the prospect of finding people wouldn't matter anyway.

It got worse when they had to cross a partly frozen creek.

Theon tried walking across it first but the ice broke beneath his feet and he fell in. If he couldn't feel anything from his lower half before this had been worse, but he tried not to show his discomfort.

"Sansa, come on!", he shouted.

"No", she pleaded. "I'll die. I can't."

Theon had a strong need to agree if it not had been for the hound's barking. They could be farther away and the echo makes them sound closer but maybe he's just wishing out loud.

"I've seen what Ramsay's dogs do to people. I say risk it." He held out his hand. She took it and her helped her slowly get in the water.

They held each other close so they couldn't get taken by the current. Slowly and gingerly they walked. Each step felt heavier than the last but they willed each other on. The bark of the hounds faded as the shore grew closer until at last they reached it. The longest yard Theon ever walked and he did it in almost pitch darkness. He got to land first then helped Sansa up. Then they ran again.

Exhaustion finally caught up and they finally needed rest. Alone in the deep woods all they could find was a hollowed tree that has fallen on it's side. There they sat. Sansa had grown pale and she had a look that's like she's staring into nothing.

She shivered despite her cloak so Theon wrapped his arms around her. She responded in kind by holding to his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder.

 _We must find shelter. We'll not last the night if we stay this way,_ thought Theon before falling asleep.

Then the hounds barked.

 _How long were we out? Hours? Minutes?_ _How did they keep finding us?_ These thoughts ran through Theon's groggy mind. He had hoped that the dogs barking was just a product of his groggy mind.

They weren't. The barking and snarling grew closer.

"Sansa! Sansa wake up", he said as he shook her awake. She opened her eyes. "They found us." Hey eyes grew big at the realization. "I'll lure them away."

"No. I can't", she pleaded. "Please. I won't make it without you."

"You will. Go north. Only north. Don't stop anywhere where there's people. Jon is Lord Commander at Castle Black. He'll help you. Go!" With that he ran off to the direction of the dogs.

He walked a few yards before he ran into a horseman with the flayed man stitched in his coat. "Here! He is here!" The rest of the Bastard's Boys rode up shortly. Four other men as well as old Ben Bones the kennelmaster with his bloodhounds.

The first horseman named Yellow Dick turned back to Theon. "Little Reek. Where is Lady Bolton?"

Theon answered with a shivering voice. It's hard to tell if it was because he was cold or afraid. "She's dead."

"Liar." answered Bones. "My hounds never lie. Don't you boys?"

Theon again lied. "She broke her leg when we jumped from the ramparts. I left her to die in the snow."

"We'll see." The one named Stillwood said. "Bones."

"Come on boys. Find her. Find her." The kennelmaster rushed past Theon with the horsemen following. He rushed after them and found Sansa a few yards away from the hollowed tree. She had been cornered by a rock wall and the dogs were barking at her like crazy. The men were laughing and jeering.

Theon got in between her and the dogs. _Sansa I'm sorry._ He stood tall to try to scare dogs as best he could.

Dick seemed amused by the display. "I can't wait to see what part Ramsay will cut off from you this time."

Furious galloping and nickering of horses interrupts the gross laughing. The men turned around to see two horsemen coming at them at full speed. "Draw swords!", said Stillwood. One horseman got closer than the other. Stillwood said "It's a bloody woman" before she slashed him across the chest with a broadsword sending him crashing from his horse to the ground.

The woman was a giant in dark blue armor. Her short blonde hair glistened amidst the snowy gloom. Her companion was a short boy in layered leather more suited for practice than actual combat. He engaged the second horseman in a swordfight while still ahorse. The giant on horse turned to see Yellow Dick charge at her with sword drawn. She blocked his strike but the impact sent her to the ground with a thud. He turned, reared and went for another charge but as he did she stood up and tackled him from the left while he held his sword from the right sending horse and rider down. She then grabbed a dirk from her side holster and slit his neck.

Meanwhile her companion continued his duel on horseback. Blades clashed and steel sang until the horseman made a mistake. He went for a backhand slash that hit nothing but the air allowing the young man to go for a straight stab into his chest. Unfortunately, the momentum was too great and they both fell.

The blonde was just getting to her bearings when she had to block another sword strike to her head. The last horseman had dismounted earlier and was guarding Theon and Sansa but drew his sword when his companions all died. If he thought fighting her would be easy because she was off balance for a moment then he was mistaken. She may have been off balance for a moment but her experience told. He went for a downward slash which she evaded and countered with a slash to his back sending him on his knees and getting finished off with a stab to the join between his neck and shoulder.

Stillwood wasn't dead yet and proved it by getting up and lunging at the young man. His furious blows were blocked but it caused the young man to stumble backwards and drop his sword. Just when he was about to give the killing blow, Theon tackled him from his left side.

Theon thrusted a dagger he found among the corpses and repeatedly jabbed it at Stillwood's neck.

"REEK! REEK! MY NAME IS REEK! GOOD REEK! LOYAL REEK!" This he did until Sansa held him. He then calmed down and dropped the knife.

* * *

Theon Greyjoy stood witness to many men swearing fealty to Eddard Stark but that was the first time someone did the same for his daughter Sansa. She stumbled a bit on the words but she finished the rite and when they finished she had two sworn shields in her service, Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. Theon was surprised to know Pod had known Sansa in the capitol and that he squired for Tyrion Lannister of all people. For some reason Brienne took one of the hounds with them.

The group rode a half miles before stopping again to break their fast. Theon believed it wasn't safe to light a fire but Sansa assured him they are far enough away and it would take days for Lord Bolton to assemble another search party. Theon felt assured so he and Pod went out to gather firewood while Sansa and Brienne talked. Theon and Pod were trying to get a fire going when Sansa walked up.

"Theon, may we speak?", she asked.

"Go on. I need the practice anyway", said Pod while he tried to spark the flints.

Theon got up and he and Sansa stood beneath the shade of an old blasted weirwood.

Sansa spoke first. "I just want to thank you for saving me."

"You would have got out earlier if I hadn't interfered. Those people who tried to help you wouldn't have died. Ramsay wouldn't have hurt you!" Theon's voice trembled with panic.

She took his shoulders and held him steady. "That does not matter now! We got out and once we get to the Wall, the Boltons won't be able to touch us."

This didn't reassure him. "Jon will kill me the moment I step through those gates."

"I won't let him harm you! We'll tell him the truth about Bran and Rickon."

"And the truth about those farm boys I killed in their place? The truth about Ser Rodrick who I beheaded? The truth about Robb who I betrayed?" His voice broke in that last sentence.

"Once you take the black all your crimes will be forgiven." She again tried to reassure.

"I don't want to be forgiven", he said slowly. "Not after everything I've done to your family. I'd have taken you all the way to the Wall. Or die to get you there"

At this Sansa gave him a hug. This was the warmest he's felt in years. "Where will you go?", she whispered in his ear.

Though it pains to say so, the answer was simple as he heard the crashing of waves in his mind. "Home " he said.

She let go and said "Then we'll take you there. The Rills is a few miles east from here. From there you can take a ship."

He was dumb founded. "The Rills is allied with the Boltons."

She continued. "Everyone will be looking for two. They won't be looking for four. Please let me do this for you." She held his hands.

He couldn't say no so she took that as yes. Together they walked back. At least her spirits was lifting again.

They sat down just as Pod was getting the fire big enough. "Where is Brienne?"

He pointed to her as she walked back with the Bolton hound on a leash.

"What are we going to eat?", Sansa asked. Theon was looked curious.

Brienne scratched the hound's chin, then she drew out her dagger. Sansa and Theon's faces fell.

"Do either of you like the taste of dog?", she asked.


	5. Jaime

It had been a wonderful name day celebration. The great lords and ladies of Dorne toasted to Trystane Martell and Myrcella Baratheon's upcoming union. Prince Doran spoke of a new era of friendship and prosperity between Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms.

 _So why am I painting stones to put on my dead daughter's eyes?,_ Jaime Lannister asked himself.

He had been a captive of the Starks when she was sent to foster at Sunspear. Tyrion thought she would keep Dorne on their side and maybe even act as an apology for the deaths of their Princess Elia and her babes.

Myrcella had written as often as possible.

"Sunspear is grand but rather dusty. I was instructed to always remain in the company of guards if I wish to go outside to explore the markets and bazaars. It was exciting but filled they say with pick pockets. When I first arrived, we saw towers shaped like giant snakes defending the corners of the city walls. Cousin Rosamund asked if we were in Sunspear or Snakespear but I told her not to say more. I miss you, mother. I miss Tommen, uncle Jaime and even Joff."

Cersei had written back.

"Don't fret, darling. When the war is over you will come home as soon as possible. Fear nothing and trust no one. You are a Lannister and Baratheon. It is you they they should fear."

Cersei had received a letter sometime after Lord Tywin lifted Stannis' siege.

"Mother, I am sorry for not writing sooner. We are moving from Sunspear to the Water Gardens and things here have been busy. I am so happy you are all safe. Is uncle Stannis dead? I hope not. I think he is not evil, just misguided like uncle Renly was. If he surrenders please implore Joff to give him clemency. Whatever he's done he is still our family."

"Trystane, that's Prince Doran's son, appealed on my behalf to to his uncle Oberyn to move me to the Water Gardens. He said it would remind me of home. Oberyn finally wrote Prince Doran and he received a note just two days ago saying that I may come. I am glad to go, really. I don't think Oberyn likes me very much. His paramour and daughters are very friendly though, except for Obara. She follows her father in his rudeness."

"I had tried on Dornish dress for the first time. It's called a sari and it wraps around the body and comes with a veil to shield my eyes from the sun. I've also taken to wearing a ring on my nose. As I write this, I am not wearing a corset! I feel so free and comfortable. When I come home I will show off the latest Dornish fashions at court. I think everyone will think it outrageous!"

 _Yes, too outrageous,_ said Cersei. _She consorts with bastards and now they'd have her dress like a whore._

She was also delighted when Jaime finally came back. She had been sorry for the loss of his hand.

She was even more happy when she heard that Joffrey was getting married. Myrcella had heard only good things about Margaery Tyrell, who had once been her aunt.

Myrcella had been inconsolable when Joffrey died and Tyrion was apparently responsible. A few months after that, Lord Tywin died, apparently at Tyrion's hands as well. She had written that everyone was very kind to get through these troubles especially Prince Trystane, or Trys, as she had begun to call him. His sister Princess Arianne had also become a close friend.

Things became worse when Prince Oberyn died.

"Many lords and ladies have visited Prince Doran and he fights with all of them. They all want to know what is to be done to avenge Dorne's honor. Arianne assures me her father will keep me safe. The guards have been doubled and my movements are limited to my chambers, the dining hall and the courtyard where I can be seen. Poor Ellaria spends her days mourning and I can't even speak to her. She cursed me out the one time I tried to comfort her. Even Oberyn's daughters have kept their distance. Nym, Tyene, Elia; they look at me like an unwelcome guest. Does Sarella in Oldtown think like this as well?"

That was the last letter she sent for a long while. Until a few months ago when a new letter arrived. It was not in her hand.

_To his Royal Highness Tommen of the House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm._

_Greetings_

_You are cordially invited to celebrate Princess Myrcella Baratheon's sixteenth name day. There will be a masquerade, dancing and other delightful activities._

"You cannot go, your grace", Jaime had pleaded.

"I cannot visit my own sister now?"

"It is simply not done, your grace", said old Pycelle. "No King on the Iron Throne has ever visited Dorne. Not since Blessed Baelor."

"I'm not coming to invade Dorne. I'm just going to see the sister I'd last seen three years ago."

"Be that as it may, your grace", Kevan heeded. "Things are shaky now in the capital. We must continue rebuilding now the war is over. Our people need to see our king at the helm doing his utmost to lead them."

"You do everything for me, grand-uncle. I feel useless here."

"We are merely your grace's helpers. We serve at your pleasure", he said.

Tommen sat exasperated. "I thought being king meant I could do whatever I want. Very well. Uncle."

Jaime stood attention at his king's command.

"You shall go to Dorne in my stead."

"Your grace, my place is by your side."

"I am safe. The war is over."

 _The king is never safe_ , Jaime thought. He once said this to a man now dead.

"Ser Jaime. Uncle. Mother and I know you miss Myrcella as well. I give you leave to go see your nice. Give her our love. I order you."

_I have failed both my sons. I come back only with their sister's body. Am I even worthy of the white cloak anymore?_

It had been a wonderful name day celebration. The great lords and ladies of Dorne toasted to Trystane Martell and Myrcella Baratheon's upcoming union. Prince Doran spoke of a new era of friendship and prosperity between Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms.

If only all involved knew of the evil plot hatched within House Martell, the succeeding tragedies could have been avoided.


	6. Brienne

The sea waves washing into the shore was a welcome yet queer sound to Brienne. It's been a while since she was reminded of home. It is still a welcome contrast to the rustling of trees and eerie silence that comes with camping in the wolfswood. Some civilization and a warm bed would be a welcome luxury.

The Rills was close to the shore with a small dock filled mostly with fishing trawlers and a few trading freighters. Only some sail for the Iron Islands.

It was dusk when Brienne, Sansa, Theon and Podrick arrived in the outskirts. Sansa rode one of the Bolton horses while Theon and Pod had to share.

 _We enter the belly of the beast,_ Brienne thought.

"Do you remember the plan?", asked Sansa.

"Of course", Brienne answered.

The four rode on to the gate, a palisade of logs that swings inward at the gatekeeper's command. A male voice came from the tower post.

"Who comes to enter and what is your business?"

Brienne answered. "Weary travelers, and our business is our own."

The gate swung open and the four entered. Brienne and Pod om horse while Theon and Sansa leading their horses on foot. A hood covered Sansa'a head to hide her distinct Tully auburn hair.

Brienne remembered what Sansa told her. _Everyone's searching for two highborns, but not two highborns and their serfs._

 _Clever and headstrong like Lady Catelyn,_ Brienne thought.

The fishing village had the charming name of Lady's Crevice. Just a bunch of hovels built on moist sand facing the sea. There were shops selling fish and vegetables. There were winesinks and inns aplenty, and the great wooden Ryswell keep in the distance looming over it all. Lord Ryswell governs but in truth it is the lieutenants of his son-by-law Lord Roose Bolton who enforces the peace. Ryswell needs their permission if he wants to change anything in policy and he doesn't do much of that.

On the way, Brienne had asked Sansa "Is it a good idea to let him go home again? The last time he did he came back with an Ironborn host behind him."

"What's past is past", said Sansa. "Father treated him little better than a captive. His own father treated him like a traitor to their kind. What harm could he do to us now, after everything he's been put through? He'll never make it home without us."

Brienne thought _How could you forgive someone who helped destroy your loved ones?,_ but she said no more.

The inn going by the name of the Pink Mare was filled with men looking for a good time. Farm boys are either getting drunk and singing badly. Village watchmen are blowing their meager wages on fast women.

Brienne told her companions. "This seems a good place to hide. Hopefully the patrons are too inebriated to ask questions."

Brienne really wanted a room for the four of them but she knew getting one for a couple of serfs would draw attention so she only asked the innkeep for spare space in the stables. What they are looking for is a good horse swapper to get money so Theon can hitch a ride back home.

The stables reserved for them was a mess as expected.

"Why do we have to shovel out the manure?", complained Pod.

Sansa replied, "I'm an old fashioned girl and I believe women have the babies and men shovel out the muck."

They walked aways along the docks only to find it empty. Brienne went over to the harbor master sitting in a booth at the edge before the pier begins.

"Any ships coming today?"

"None today. What are you looking for?", asked the old man.

"Something that goes to the Iron Islands."

The old man spit. "Iron islands? You wanna go there? We just got done driving those Ironborn from these shores. They flayed and staked the last of those devils. Their corpses are on the beach facing the shit stained islands from where they came."

"I know. I saw them on the way over here, but I still need a ship leaving soon as possible. I'm trying to unload some bothersome peasants and I'm wondering if someone over there would like to pay for a servant boy or a salt wife."

"Slaves", said the old man. "You're talking about selling people for money. That's forbidden around here..."

The ding of a silver coin being dropped in front of him interrupted his talk.

"You just elicited an illegal act on my watch."

Two coins dropped

The old man waved his hand. "All right, all right. You knights are just all business aren't you? I'm just trying to say what I'm supposed to". He picked up a thin book bound on brittle brown leather. He licked his thumb and turned a page. " Got a trawler, name of Sea Stallion, being reconditioned at the dry dock. Leaving for Harlaw in two days."

"My thanks." Brienne swiped two of the coins before the harbor master could take them. "You will get the rest when Sea Stallion arrives." Brienne walked off but she could still hear the old man calling her a son of a bitch.

Brienne got to thinking about the Ironborn whose carcasses are staked out and left to rot on that beach.

"Northern justice at its finest. We won't have to worry about the Ironborn for a long while", said Brienne.

Sansa replied, "It's just butchery. Flaying is outlawed by my family."

"You do have to admit that it works."

" _Please",_ Sansa said through gritted teeth. "I don't wish to talk about this again."

"As you wish. Forgive me if I spoke out of turn." Brienne apologized. It's been a while since she's talked to another woman of her station. Not since the Lannister Queen whose manner still left a bad taste in her mouth. And that had been two years ago.

Brienne continued. "If flaying isn't pleasant to you, you'll hate what I just found out. People are being bought and sold here."

Sansa was appalled. "Slavery? There is no slavery in the North. My father made sure of that."

Brienne scratched her left ear. "Perhaps Lord Eddard was not as thorough as he might have thought of himself."

The pair went back into the inn. It was just past sunset by the time they returned. Some salted porridge was their supper.

"By the look of things here, Bolton runs a tight ship." said Brienne.

"But the people are so afraid now. Dead men rotting on spikes won't ensure peace. It only makes them angry.", said Sansa.

 _If Renly were alive, he'd know what to do. He'd come up with something._ Brienne sighed and touched Sansa's shoulder. "I think you've been in the south too long. The world is not a nice place. We need to be ruthless to survive it and each other."

Sansa took a drink of water. "You sound like someone I met down there. He told me the same thing. The world is cruel so we must become worse. I don't believe that. I _can't_ believe that." She got up and was about to walk out when a man wearing a Bolton badge stood in her way.

"Well look at this.", he sneered. "The most wanted woman in the Seven Kingdoms and I find her in some dingy winesink in the ass end of the North. You know how much gold is on your head right now?"

Brienne grit her teeth, and drew her sword...


End file.
